Fetish Robots Richard King Perkins II
The bright world stands over me in earliest turmoil bleaching greenery strumming the brittleness of sleeping sparrows. Gone are the nights when the moon drew down upon us a portal of ecstasy lightning splitting a black oak to the root— where sensual statues and fetish robots moved across a chevron field playing a game that had no rules but held deepest purpose nonetheless.
Volume XVIII
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